I'm falling, dying
by MiapAndaPen
Summary: Stiles realizes how much he's changed since the possession.
1. Chapter 1

"Can I get you something?"

Stiles stuffed his cold hands in his pockets and bit the insides of his cheeks, hoping the pain would help to ease the stress, and the warmth to reach him for once. That did not work though, it never did, but he had to make this work, he skipped too many chances to get out, he needs this to work.

The woman behind the counter drummed against it and the sound she made danced right on Stiles' already irritated nerves, the light above his head burned without a stop, flickering at random times, whining for the day to already and, to be honest, so did he.

"can I _get_ you something?" she repeats in clear annoyance, stressing the words exaggeratedly, probably assuming he's reclusive or something.

Stiles' hoodie casted a suspicious shadow on his face but he couldn't care less, although he strongly hoped she was asking the man behind him.

She clearly wasn't.

"Uh- um..." There, he can't even form a coherent sentence, and depends on sentence fillers because no one thinks that silence is better when you have nothing to say.

The woman cocked an eyebrow and the man behind him coughed. Stiles jumped up before deciding that he's wasting everyone's time here, and that it's time to leave.

Someone put his hand on Stiles' shoulder, so he turned around in sweats.

"Stiles."

"Uh- hey." Scott, and he looks surprised to see him here, well he's surprised he is here to begin with, who would've expected him to come out of his house?

"Where have you been?"

"Oh you know, just-" where had he been again? oh right: "home."

"So... how's it going?" Stiles says and almost curses himself out loud, he shouldn't be asking Scott that.

"Good." The other returns awkwardly.

"Yeah, so... Um, I... gotta go." He struggles with words as if thinking wasn't the only thing he'd been doing all the time. Before he might say anything more stupid, Stiles jogs to his car and retreats back to the safety of his house.

 _Really?_ How's it going?! out of all the questions he could've asked and all of the things he could've said he chooses to ask Scott that!

He kills the engine and silently walks out of the car, turns the key in the lock twice and gets in. Everything is still the same, even as he closes the door behind him and holds the warm key in his hand it stays the same as it has always been, Stiles glances at the wooden table and just contemplates how it's coated in dust, and how that's more obvious when it's sun lit than when it isn't.

He stays like that for about fifteen minutes or so before climbing the stairs to his room. He noticed he does that a lot, zoning out that is, but it's not like he can really help it nowadays, it just happens.

There's a bottle of adderall on his nightstand but Stiles can't touch it, well he can but he shouldn't. Because if he does, he'll take his usual dose, the one he didn't take in months, that's probably what caused him to withdrawal.

._._._.

That day, Stiles decides he needs to bring some form of control over his life, he can't just stay at home forever, leaving it only for a quick trip to the mall before fleeing back, he's worrying his father too much, so what if he made a bad decision and it turned into a disaster later on? people... learn from mistakes. Life moves on.

His life should be able to move on too, just like everyone else's seems to be. Scott was at the mall today, he seemed to be handling it pretty well, he hasn't seen Lydia in forever but her last text is reassuring enough to say the same about her. He can fake it until he makes it, if that's what it takes.

Stiles begins by cleaning his room, the general mess of threads, newspaper articles, clothes and everything in between had to either be thrown or cleaned; the sheriff, from the doorframe, eyed him quizzically, but he needn't explain what was already obvious and plain.

It takes a lot of cleaning and arranging but when he's done, he's satisfied; it looks normal again, it doesn't give off the idea that he's a total nut job who's planning to explode the town he lives in

He makes a plan for his first day back to school (because he knows he needs one) study, obviously, he has a lot of catching up to do, but with enough concentration (which he doesn't seem to excel at) he could do it.

He knows he should brace himself for what he might hear, gossip runs fast in Beacon Hills... He's also well aware that he should take it easy on the first week or so, with his rhythm of sleeping, the least he can do is skip last period, drown a Xanax down. Sleep, hopefully. Then dive into the cycle of studies and rest.

Pretty easy. Stiles convinces himself as he opens his Biology textbook.

._._._.

Although it isn't his first time Studying without his adderall, Stiles finds it quite a challenge, catching up turned out easier said than done due to the time lapse but he still manages to study for four hours before dinner.

Food, _y_ e _a_ h.

So dinner is scheduled at awkward o'clock everyday, and Stiles can't say he likes it when his father stops eating just to just give him a look that translates into a command, when Stiles doesn't take it, does he finally say it:

"You should eat more." He nods but leaves the plate untouched still, waiting for the right moment to leave this conversation and go upstairs into his room, not that there is anything specific he's planning to do there, it's that there's nothing specific to do here beside feeling uncomfortable.

"Did you talk to Scott lately?"

"about what." comes out toast dry, he doesn't look at the food or his father, the wall it is.

"School..." his father hesitates "so he could help you catch up."

Stiles pushes the plate away from him and gets up to leave, his father probably thinks it's a sensitive subject but it's really the food that's twisting his stomach.

"I'll borrow Lydia's notes." he leaves with that.

._._._.

The plan continues in slow motion, he manages to study for another hour but then a quick glance to the clock reveals that it's way past midnight. He still doesn't want to sleep.

His window looks inviting enough, so he walks towards it and stares at the world outside, to him, it's warm as if it's summer, but he knows it isn't. There's a tree right next to his window, two eyes pierce into his own unblinking.

Stiles is about to take a step back when he realizes that those eyes belong to none other than a simple bird.

Owl.

Big and dark and clock like, bringer of bad luck according to many superstitions, not to him anyways, there was this tradition going in his family, like a saying, that owls brought good luck, it's just that his mom said it to him a lot; now that he thinks about it, owls aren't that frequent in this area but whenever they showed up, he remembers getting scared, so she probably said that to ease his fears, it worked.

Stiles noticed that he was in for some kind of staring contest that the owl just wouldn't give out, eventually he did, by blinking to the sky above his head and trying to make out constellations out of shapeless clouds.

When he looks back it's gone.

Soon after that, the blue gets lighter and light climbs sky, Stiles' been on his bed for sometime now, twisting and turning against another nightmare. For the past few weeks, Stiles has been purposefully hiding his pillow in random places so that: a) he doesn't accidentally stumble upon it and b) he doesn't sleep on it. But for some reason, when he did find it (during the great cleaning of his room) the idea of a dreamless sleep seduced his mind enough to give in.

Now that he wakes up in shivers, Stiles realises he's wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

"Don't forget to eat" when Stiles's by the door he's reminded, and it's probably the worst thing to say, since that's exactly what he'll end up doing. Forgetting.

" 'kay" Stiles replies and heads for the familiar blue jeep hoping his first day would end up well.

._._._.

Coach Finstock proceeds to read the names off the list when Stiles arrives, after having complained for a good ten minutes on how the team's sucking might turn unbearable, he continues the role call:

"Johanson"

"here"

"Rodriguez"

"Right here!" he waves his hands.

"Yes I can see you" the teacher snaps back in clear annoyance.

"and uh- Stilinski"

The room suddenly went quiet with slight whispers barely heard, Johansan finally spoke from the second table:

"Coach, you know he's never coming back" the other students looked back at him as if to shush him up, everyone knew Stilinski was officially one of this year's freaks, especially since he was their classmate; like dude, you don't just go missing then randomly show up at practise just to get your coach an arrow in the stomach, of course people's curiosity knew no bounds and even so, they got some of the truth just by collective guessing:

"Stilinski's gone nuts, he even got admitted to Eichen House" whispered a little too loudly, Jessica, who was sitting next to the window, everyone heard her and there started the debate.

"How do you know that?" Danny asked, frowning a little.

"My Uncle works there" Jessica added in her own defense "and he knows that he's gone _totally_ psycho"

"Alright that's enough" Coach shuts the blabbering teenagers down, and just at that moment, the door opened slightly and through it peeked the familiar face of Stiles Stilinski.

The sudden appearance surely caused general confusion, Jessica's words were still echoing in everyone's minds but the concerned person, still frozen by the door, frozen by everyone's looks.

Stiles contemplated disappearing into the door but Coach seemed to have read his mind:

"Have a seat" the other students looked between him and the door as if expecting someone else to come through (as if expecting some men in white suits to drag him around the halls while he screams his brains out, right?) when no one did but the wind, Stiles made a move to close it behind him and barely found his seat between twenty piercing eyes through his human skull.

The quiet resonated for another moment before Finstock coughed the awkwardness away, only to have it cling in harder:

"Uh- Greenberg" and that was definitely his mistake, since Greenberg was hardly ever absent and even when he was present Coach would skip his name while they both nodded at each other in some weird telepathic irritation, Stiles knew that and he just wished he didn't come this early.

._._._.

Stiles was so caught up in avoiding everyone that he didn't notice his next class was with both Lydia and Scott.

"Long time no see." He ends up saying to the girl who sits in the front row, she smiles a little then buries her head back into a book, he noticed Scott right beside him and was more than willing to make this right.

The teacher entered before class began, it was Mrs . Bartenrow the biology teacher, casually starting the lesson:

"Today, we are going to talk about another one of science's wonders, the creature that could survive hundreds of years alongside humans... who can remind me of our last lesson?"

Lydia's hands and another few were up, but not him or Scott's.

"Yes, Ms . Martin"

"human DNA fingerprinting by polymerase chain reaction"

"Correct, but of course we're not going to talk about that today" she adds "today, we have- _oh_ what do we have here? Mr . Stillski!"

"It's Stilinski."

"Good to know you're alive and well..." She trails off and the trio doesn't miss how everyone gives him -yet again- the cold stare that means nothing but more uncomfortable minutes are passing by.

Mrs Bartenrow turns the lights off and displays the video that the students start watching, but Scott sits by his side when it does and it's clear as the presence of dark he's up for something.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Scott sounds concerned and his eyes are enough visible to confirm.

"Why?!" he asks, confused and presumably radiating worry that the other can smell. Stiles doesn't look around twice (because that would be too weird) before he repeats himself:

"Why?!"

Scott gestures with his head to the video that has long been explaining how fabulous and out-gorgeous it is that flies have four pairs of chromosomes in every cell. save our souls.

Oh wait.

The teacher turns the lights back on and Stiles sucks in a huge breath, he looks around, his eyes adjust but his mind doesn't to her next words:

"Here we have the little beauties!" She states excitedly. Some students go 'eww' and all Stiles could focus his thinking on is dying.

Now he knows why Scott looked so concerned. He was _right_.

"Can I be excused" he forcefully manages, he's sure as shit he looks pale enough to get the hall pass but the teacher strangely smiles at that.

"Of course" she states "but only when you get the pop quiz right"

 _O_ h _r_ e _a_ l _l_ y _?_!

"What kind of spieces is this one?" Her finger points with precision to the insect, but still not touching "come closer, don't be shy" she encourages.

Stiles somehow managed to stuff all of his insides into his lungs, which caused them to float up his neck and stop his breathing; no, this doesn't scientifically make any sense, but that's at least how it felt.

"Are you okay?"

"I uhm-" Stiles isn't terrified of the question, or the fly. Totally not.

"It's an albino fly."

"And why is that so?" And to be honest If he were to go to the bathroom he would've probably already peed himself... or worse, but oh well.

"absence of melanin, the thing- pigment that gives color." The fly stared back in curiosity, its red eyes ever so big but not just that, also familiar.

The room wasn't quiet anymore, and Stiles just left it, relieved that for once he could escape the many set of eyes and the never to stop their buzzing flies that followed him everywhere.

Stiles threw up whatever he didn't eat.

Fucking disgusting.

Flies. And how much paler he's gotten since he came to school.

"Stiles!"

"Hey, Stiles!"

He hears his name being called and can only identify it as the comeback he wished he'd never get to the swimming thoughts in his head, but then Stiles soon realises that it isn't the case and that his name was indeed being whispered.

"Hey, didn't anyone teach you to answer when you're called?"


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles doesn't recognize the voice, and that is usually a bad start. He lifts his head up and quirks an eyebrow, because he doesn't recognize the face either, although it might've been a familiar one wondering the corridors way before he stopped going to school but for now Stiles cannot for the life of him put a name to this stranger, or his friend.

"Stilinski, right?" Stiles nods hesitantly, the 'friend' who's not any more familiar than his companion doesn't bother lowering his voice when he confirms to the latter:

"I told you that's Stiles" he confirms with a glance to the miserable pile of limbs on the floor "anyway, catch you later" and leaves, closing the door behind him. Stiles stares at it for an extra second before turning his attention to that mysterious person who has gone through all that effort just to talk to him. But that person just glares back and the tension is enough thick already.

"So" Stiles starts "who's asking?" The stranger's expression remains blank and Stiles starts to assume that he's not going to get an answer and that they would continue this awkwardly silent non-interaction until someone needs to pee. But it's thankfully not the case.

"Right" The stranger shoots a tight lipped smile his way "I'm Blake."

Stiles doesn't feel like lying, so he doesn't say it was nice meeting him.

"Okay." he gives instead "what do you want?"

"Do you know anything about the hospital massacre?" The teen tenses at the words and is instantly reminded of his nightmares... ones he'd hoped to leave behind at home the instant he lent foot outside and yet here they are, discussing them.

"Yeah" The Stilinski breaths, suddenly feeling sick.

"Yeah? My brother died in it." He informs and it feels like a kick to the chest. "He was ten, the police said they'd look into the case, find out who did it" tears burn Stiles' nose.

"But now the case's closed" he adds before pausing, Stiles must look like a mess, he certainly feels like one, and sweats like one...

"Look," Blake sighs "all I'm saying is, my dad's an FBI, he promised to look into it, I wanted to help him, that's all I'm doing right now" he lifts both his hands in surrender as if Stiles would be afraid of him if he didn't.

"so, why did they close the case?" he calmly asks, the little fear that choked him just seconds ago started fading away, but Stiles held on to it in hope that it would stop him from saying too much.

"Poor evidence" Stiles answers, and it must've disappointed Blake or angered him, or both because he just frowned.

"What about the witnesses? The masked men?"

"Not when they don't leave a trace."

"The dead bodies, that's your trace." _idiot_ , wasn't mouthed but somehow Stiles found it fit with the tone Blake used, and Stiles can't even blame him for being angry, he deserves it.

"But still no fingerprints, no alive witnesses, they just did the killing and vanished." Stiles summed up, Blake stayed silent for a second and then rolled his eyes, but it wasn't directed at Stiles, he probably thinks he's insane and can't help. He's probably right. Stiles stood up:

"I'm sorry about your brother, Blake" and left, not waiting for the other to acknowledge his 'being sorry' because it mostly means nothing at all, especially since it's Stiles who caused all of this. He takes the first turn and hopes Blake doesn't see him leaning against the nearest wall and trying really hard not to break down into sobs, or failing really badly to get enough air into his damned lungs.

Blake should've beaten him to unconsciousness. That would've felt better.

He resumes walking, just in case the other's class was supposed to be this way. Not knowing when or how it happened, Stiles finds counting down the minutes for the bell to ring is a nice hobby to have. Someone soon joins him and calmly asks:

"How are you doing?"

"Don't ask." Stiles looks up and Danny isn't alone, Ethan is next to him. Stiles wonders what it must be like for him to see his deceased brother in every reflection.

"Anyway what are you guys here for?" He addresses Ethan mostly.

"I'm leaving town." The werewolf declares, scrunching his nose.

"So soon?" He tries for casual even though he knows the werewolf can smell something is wrong.

"Yeah, tell Scott I'll be back once I'm ready..." They nod at each other and Stiles finally walks back to Biology.

._._._.

"No- Mr GreenBerg, you cannot cut them!"

Once he joins the classroom, Miss Bartenrow continues her remark about not harassing the insects before turning around, as well as all the other students, because: how rare and strange, a Stilinski, they react as if it's the very first time he'd made an appearance, dead silence and quiet murmurs that aren't as subtle as one would prefer.

"I'm glad you found your way back" the teacher jokes, and the shift she made would've been hilarious if it didn't display something more than discomfort.

Without replying back, Stiles rejoins his seat.

And somehow that makes the matters worse, Scott's -why-did-you-come-back- face doesn't help, some people stare while he passes then whisper behind his back, he only finds it strange because the first half of this year, Stiles studied with these people, they know he's not deaf, then why do they keep being so loud about it?

Scott gets his head back into the lesson when he doesn't get a reaction from him and Stiles is grateful for that, one set of eyes less is still better than none.

"It flew into my face!" a girl from the front row suddenly shouts before dropping something that breaks and before Stiles can know what exactly happened, he sees it.

The flies escaped, and then started the chaos. Students randomly shooing, with books, stumbling over each other, falling, the teacher trying to get them to close the doors and windows to not let them escape but it was already too late, for they were competing over who would kill the most, GreenBerg of course was one of the few exceptions, because he thought he swallowed one and had someone check with him.

Stiles, in this marvelous mess, found himself swaying in place, he might've fallen a few times, or the floor is bouncing under his feet.

"I'm... " he wheezed for air and pronounced each word as if it were his very last breath "g'na-"

And before his world collapses, Scott is next to him, leading him out, Class ends soon after that and Stiles couldn't be more thankful.

._._._.

"It's called entomophobia" Lydia answers what he hadn't asked on their way out. somehow he's calm again, although it took great will and effort, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"What?"

"Fear of insects, the thing you seem to have with flies" she explains.

"I don't know what you're talking about" he looks away, he embarssed himself enough already.

"I heard your heartbeat" Scott -to his displeasure- confronts.

"Why were you listening to it in the first place?" He squints his eyes in annoyance.

"To make sure you were alright!"

"I am alright!" He returns desperately, Scott turns to Lydia.

"Don't look at me! He seemed to have studied pretty hard for the quiz!" He rolls his eyes but doesn't deny it, he did study pretty hard, why pretend to not know? Why not know, when not knowing is never an option anymore?

"They'll forget about it." Lydia said. 'But you won't.' Her eyes added. She smiled reassuringly, then walked away. Stiles just stood there, against his locker and watched the corridors empty as time passed, people so energetic, so... full of life, wondered around, gossipped, laughed, glanced at him weirdly then gossipped some more, or simply left hastily to their next class and the worst part is that Stiles doesn't react, or rather can't find enough energy to do so, so he lets everything be for a moment, let the world continue... a little less of him with each passing moment, he could just... sleep here.

"iles- Stiles!" Stiles gasps into reality as he's shaken awake, he forgot Scott is still here.

"Sorry, I... zoned out."

"Anyway, I'm late for class, see you later." he doesn't form a response to that, just nods. His locker's combination suddenly turns into something worthy of attention so he stares at it some more until Miss Martin drags him into his next class.

._._._.

History, Stiles wouldn't think much of it unless... he threatened the teacher and tortured him in this very classroom, maybe not the best class to attend on a first day?

Stilinski makes a move to leave but is met with Mr Yukimura who tells him to sit down, and starts the lesson as any normal day would go.

Class went so for everyone else, but of course, for Stiles it was careful, the teacher even tried to get him to engage a couple of times but all he did was zone out, a lot, and try to stop his hands from shaking with no avail since the biology incident.

Did he really develop this... entomophobia, like Lydia said? Is he never going to be able to see a fly and not have a panic attack for the rest of his life?!

At the end of the lesson was when things started getting frustrating, precisely when the question was raised about him instead of the lesson, that he hadn't much idea what it was about.

"Any questions?" Yukimura searched the classroom for a raised hand before his eyes settled on Stiles' left.

"Yes, actually" someone said bitterly "since when are mental patients allowed to assist?"

"I am unqualified to answer off topic questions but in your case I'll have you informed that the school policy isn't and will probably not be discussed with the students"

"It becomes so when it's a threat to our life, Mr Yukimura" the murmurs now turned to debates and questions over others, a girl behind him innocently asked:

"Who is he talking about?'

'Stilinski, duh!' Three or four answered. Obviously, it was him. Stiles clenched his fist while the teacher tried to clam them down.

He could punch him. Really. All it'd take is a right swing. But Stiles heard what he just said about him, 'a threat' meaning aggressive, meaning this is where his mind tells him to back down and play it cool. Besides, yes, Stiles had been to Eichen House.

Something along the lines of 'if I were a threat to your life, you wouldn't be alive' wouldn't help, especially since the rumors travelled faster than light apparently, Stiles watched as Mr Yukimura threatened a detention and the bell ringing after that sounded like victory.

Stiles didn't want to be in anymore situations like these, the whole school environment became too draining to bare so he took off before last period got even close.

._._._.

Once home, he swallowed down the promissed xanax, and begged his nap to be dreamless.

At awkward o'clock precisely, his father continued his usual habit of trying to put food into his mouth.

"Stiles, eat something" he urged at dinner.

"Not hungry." Stiles dismissed.

"Maybe it was too soon to come back to school, huh?"

"It's not that." he sighed.

"Then what is it Stiles?" The sheriff helplessly inquired "I'm starting to worry here"

"I'm sorry." he answered, but somehow it was emptier than both his stomach and plate combined "I've been trying to improve ever since I... got back"

"Well aren't you glad that you're back?" Stiles couldn't form the right answer to that but he also figured that not saying anything back or leaving would both be considered attempts at scaring the living what out of his father so instead he chose to say:

"I'm glad, really" hoping really hard it sounded convincing but when he arrived upstairs he remembered that damn it there should've been a smile somewhere down there, except there wasn't.

So he didn't bother change his clothes and leaned against the window, watched the clouds float in a sky that was deep blue in haste to catch up on their crying cue, well isn't he glad that he's back?

Christ, was he even back at all? Didn't they notice something more than just the restlessness and disturbed appetite? Something... lost in him?! taken without his permission, stolen? Because he sure did.

Next to his window, on a tree branch, the owl's eyes pierced into him and he couldn't help but notice:

"You're back."


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles woke up with the striking realization that he did in fact come back to school too soon, he had to take care of himself before even thinking of going back. He can't sleep and doesn't eat yet still hopes to somehow make it through the year alright.

Part of him knows it's not impossible, but that's just the scary part, the part that believes nothing is impossible if you push yourself far enough. He tells himself as he's still laying in bed the next morning, unable to find something to look out for in the day, he stays rethinking his life choices...

"Stiles, it's time for school" he hears his father pass his room. Last night's dinner, he remembers his dad being angry at him, because he's not getting better like he's supposed to be.

"Okay." He replies in a hoarse voice, he must be dying of dehydration. He kicks the sheets away and tries to get up, but unfortunately, sways in place instead and lands right back on his bed.

He should eat something for the sake of his humanness and the sound of his stomach begging for some food.

Stiles tries again this time, fighting the expected dizziness and slowly walks downstairs, fetching some food. Once he makes it safely to the fridge, opening it alone makes his stomach give up, it smells... of food.

Obviously. His nose doesn't agree with his needs anymore.

He closes it, realizing he cannot keep anything more than a fruit down, he grabs a banana from the counter and walks back upstairs.

Stiles leaves the house with half the banana in the trashcan.

._._._.

The school day is a little something called disaster, due to some weird thinking pattern Stiles finds himself avoiding his friends, it's one of these days where seeing them makes him physically ache with guilt and also he kind of forgot how to open up a conversation. He noticed that first at the mall with Scott, then his classes where it was getting harder and harder to communicate, let alone participate in a class debate.

"Hey." Danny said when he stopped for his locker and it took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to both register what was said to him and how he was supposed to respond:

"Yeah," Stiles pronounced "hey."

"How's everyone doing?"

"way better than I am, I suppose." Stiles didn't even find the strength to pull off something sarcastic but then he realized this is probably not the kind of answer Danny was looking for "oh sorry, you were asking about- yeah, I don't know, we haven't really talked about it."

"Ethan's leaving, tomorrow." he announced and Stiles smacked his own forehead:

"Shit, sorry, I forgot to tell Scott." when he meets Danny's eyes, Stiles sees something he doesn't like, sympathy:

"Nothing to be sorry about." And as if they couldn't stand each other's faces, Danny walked away at the same time Stiles did. He just said that out of necessity, he had to get it out of the way before he could, er, never talk to him again.

Yes, Stiles knew that from experience, no one likes hanging out with the sad shit, they just don't.

._._._.

From there on, it only got better. Stiles took two breaks for the bathroom and they were both for water works. The first time it happened, he saw Allison's empty seat while the teacher explained lord knows what, Stiles' eyes watered but he didn't want to cry in class so he got himself an easy hall pass again because of how miserable he looked.

He kind of hated the way he didn't even care to check if anyone was in there before breaking down.

Splashing his face with water did nothing to calm him down.

Taking deep breaths was really hard so he allowed the sobs to choke him until he got anxious enough to leave: like what if someone found him? and how much time did he spend in here?!

Stiles knew his eyes were red and puffy like someone who's just been crying but he hoped the others didn't notice, or didn't care.

The next time was during his class with Lydia, he remembered her being very attentive in class, but this time she seemed to be busy talking to the girl next to her, from where he was sitting, Stiles could hear some of it and it wasn't pleasant:

"What do you mean?" the girl did that loud whisper thing again, like she wanted to be heard "I saw you with him, you must know something."

Lydia, slowly turned to her and put on a smile that seemed forced "I don't." she answered in a tone that suggested the girl has found the line, Stiles knew they were talking about him and the next assumption confirmed his own:

"I heard it's because of his dad" Lydia's head snapped in her direction again but her eyes were more intense, she needn't speak though, her face said it all.

"You know" the girl explained, turning around to check if he was listening before continuing "since he's a drunk and all."

Stiles couldn't hear more of it then.

"Sh, hey," he called out without a name but she was the only one to turn around, followed by Lydia, whose face suddenly got unreadable.

"So," the girl then said "is it true?"

"No" he bit and felt really surprised that he didn't move up until now "no it's NOT fucking true you _stupid_ sh-"

"Mr Stilinski,"

He didn't realize he yelled the last part until the teacher sent him out to 'calm down' (with a detention on top) he didn't calm down though, he went to the bathroom and he cried; not only did people think he was insane but they also started making assumptions about why he became so, they can't know the truth, Stiles knows that, but he could've at least controlled his temper instead of confirming what everybody else already thought was true, but of course he was too dumb to do that.

How long would it take for them to forget?

._._._.

Something strong tempted him to take some adderall the whole day, just enough to focus for his homework, just enough to function like a normal freaking human being, but he's too tired to even move from where he was seated for lunch, whenever he saw one of his friends, he prayed they wouldn't come, and maybe they could sense that because the last time Scott and him shared a glance it was Scott who left first.

Staring at his food wasn't going to make it magically disappear, Stiles realized. There was chewing involved. And before that, there was physically reaching for the food...

Too much, and too useless.

He will throw it up, it's almost written on the food, and it isn't that he isn't hungry, he knows his increased hunger is because of the adderall missing, it's just- he hasn't eaten much in forever and there's a voice that says he doesn't deserve to live that keeps pushing the food up.

It's guilt.

Or madness.

But either way Stiles doesn't lunch, and it might be because of the stupid insect that had to sit of his food out of all the others', he found himself flailing his hands in every direction in pathetic attempts to shove it away, which earned him more than a few glances and a hand on his shoulder.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"Jesu-" he turned around to the familiar face and gaped "hey, uh, Isaac." the other's expression of concern didn't change and Stiles hated it, and couldn't look at it. So he frowned and looked away.

"Yeah, I'm just- I'm fine."

"Where's Scott and," the werewolf sat on the empty chair next to him "the others?"

"I don't know" he honestly answered "anyway, something you wanted?" Because of course that's why he would be talking to him, why else?

Isaac looked down, looking almost ashamed that Stiles figured that much.

"Yeah, I- I'm leaving." tears already found their way to the human's eyes and they made it really hard to blink without shedding them. Everyone was leaving the town they wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

"And I also have to, take the, uhm-" he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Stiles wondered why he was telling him that, was Scott that hard to find these days? or was this torture in the most subtle ways? he'll take it, anyway.

Isaac must've said a few more things while he was spacing out, but none of them included a question so Stiles just nodded.

"You do that."

Isaac looked relieved at that "And Deaton?" he asked.

"What about him?" Stiles regretted not listening because Isaac looked uncomfortable again:

"Uh..." it seemed that repeating the same thing twice pained him so he ended up shaking his head "nevermind, I'll tell Scott."

"Okay." He replied and couldn't bare the thought of yet another fit of cries, so he made his way to the parking lot and made for his jeep.

Even though he knew a lot more trouble would come from skipping detention, like his dad getting worried and possibly angry again (because he really doesn't seem to be making any progress whatsoever) Stiles figured it was too much pressure to deal with and that he would rather take care of himself like he promised this morning.

So he went to the mall, where he supposed he could get a little peace, and some food too.

._._._.

The mall turned out to be Stiles' new enemy. He officially hated it, despised it, never wanted to go anywhere near it again, the reason for that being the increasing number of awkward and unwanted encounters he gets there, they're really... awkward and unwanted.

Argent was there.

Chris Argent. Allison's father.

Stiles' pretty sure he wasn't seen when he spotted the man but he had barely enough time to whirl around, almost hit the glass to the double door entrance of the mall and storm inside his jeep just to experience one of the worst anxiety attacks he's had since last weekend.

There wasn't anything he seemed to be in control of, not his crying, not the tremors in his hands that he's sure picked up right where they left off from yesterday and definitely not the thoughts that he's getting, the memories coming back at full force to hit him in the face.

He knew he couldn't drive like that but he wanted to, the possibility of the man recognizing his all too famous jeep isn't far from his mind, considering he was parked right in front of the mall, and if he finds him, Stiles is half sure he will have a heart attack, if the clenching in his goddamned heart is anything to go by.

The steering wheel was wet, his hands were wet and his face was wet all from the salty tears he keeps on tasting.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, but he knows he's at least more calm when he's not choking on his own sobs, that's good, that's a start.

Stiles sees the man leave the building and his heart rate picks up, his hand instinctively turns the key and he speeds the hell out of there never looking back.

._._._.

By the time he made it home he had a headache and if the rearview mirror didn't lie, he looked like life's personal punching bag, after the punching.

So, really bad.

Stiles found himself dragging a plastic bag in his hand and wondered what he could've possibly bought when he remembered: candy.

More specifically, gumballs. You know, those colorful round sweets, food is apparently important, even if it's just sugar.

Stiles opened the box for no real reason, it was one of those moments where he loses himself staring at nothing, or something. They were colorful and inviting and Stiles picked several up in the palm of his hand but realizing he wasn't going to eat the whole thing in one go, so he put most of them gently back on the table.

Then froze.

Surprised at the the thought's late occurrence, the invisible hand of shock shackled his own in the space between the wooden furniture and the plain walls of the room.

The sound of his own breathing increased and for air he uselessly wheezed.

He needed to brace himself.

It was the sound that these stones made against the wood that reminded him of everything he's tried so hard to forget. And its echo was even worse.

The last call to brace himself against a wall faded against the sirens his brain pulled, it was loud against his skull, yet too numb around his skin.

 _Go stones_ , he remembered. Go stones on a wooden platform.

And suddenly the room went white and there was someone quiet, sitting on the floor staring at him, bandaged and fang bared.

as if waiting for his next move.

* * *

 **So the rating changed... because obviously this is getting darker by next chapter, yes that's your trigger warning. Have a nice day :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright, trigger warning y'all.**

* * *

"I _will win either way_ " it said.

The ceiling looked a little blurry, but after blinking for a few times his vision cleared, panic still wrapped a hand over his neck.

What is he doing on the floor?

Stiles turned his head to the side and found some colors that weren't supposed to be there, dancing on the floor of his own house.

 _Red, green, yellow._

Then he remembered what had happened, that could explain why he could hear his own heartbeat and why his fingers were so numb.

Gravity seemed to be pulling extra hard since he couldn't seem to get up, even now that he's half sure the nogitsune isn't here with him anymore. His head is heavy with thoughts that beg to be free.

The only one that seemed to force him on two feet is that his dad might find him, and said dad probably didn't sleep well in a decade either, don't want our actions to have unwanted consequences now do we?

shit. His breath hitched.

._._._.

This rather strange event made Stiles think, and usually when Stiles thinks alone well... he acts alone, so the next things he did were rushed, and sudden, and many _many_ times, his brain started sounding like the old him he left in that old body of his: ' _woah, slow down, maybe you should think this one through, maybe you shouldn't go too fast_ ' but he had his mind set on the matter, it was too convincing to let go, too real, and way too scary to ignore.

 _Please don't do it._

He doesn't know when it started but he was thinking out loud, pacing and shifting in his room every few seconds, restless and eyes are wild.

"What if it's- oh my _god_ , what if it's actually happening?! what if he's still-" but every time he came to that realization he couldn't finish the thought, it was much too scary, something he dreaded too much to think about.

That was until pieces came together like a finished puzzle.

The flies' outbreak wasn't just an incident, it was planned all along. He might even have had one inside him while he was too busy freaking out.

That's _exactly_ his way to play: chaos as a distraction.

Who knows what else was planned? Everyone leaving, his inability to eat food because he's not hungry for _that_ kind of food, his lash outs, mood swings, constant loss of words, not because he's depressed, no... soon enough he'll lose control and become what he's always feared to become, again!

what about the people he talked to? Everyone seemed so... normal the whole time, was there someone new?

The cashier? Ben (or was it Blake?) -that one could sound off-

The owl that sits perched on his fucking tree branch watching his window from a perfectly good angle to spy on everything he does like THAT ISN'T FUCKING SUSPICIOUS?! NO NOT AT ALL!

"It makes sense." He mumbled when it clicked together, something climbed the insides of his throat, clawing its way to the summit, trying to retrieve the forbidden words.

"I _t makes sense_!" He pronounced, louder this time and hurriedly entered the bathroom. His thoughts trailed behind him: clingy, insistent.

A few minutes later and a lot of tears afterwards, Stiles sat down against the sink:

"You like pain." He whispered, sobs escaped with no return, he pushed the blade over his skin with a little pressure, scared, and bit on his lower lip to keep him from crying in pain "take mine, would you? Take it all."

Because if he could give it his pain, to feed it, why would it look for it elsewhere? he could handle some pain if that means no one dies. If that means he gets to keep having control.

This is his chance to make things right. To help the people he cares about. This is his second chance. _This_ is redemption.

"No," he suddenly stopped "no, I have to- I have to tell someone f-first, what if it doesn't work, what if he needs more, what if he wants more?" What if... I can't stop?

What if it's too late?

._._._.

"Hey, Stiles" he hears her voice through the other end and feels a little relived that she's okay, that she answered when he called. It's the most good he could probably feel for this week, but it's still good.

"Hi, I mean Hey."

she doesn't answer that and he wishes he used text instead.

"Listen I-" but then he goes to straight to the point "Lydia, can you come over... maybe?" there's the faintest sound of breath, maybe sigh on her end and he already regrets the call:

"It's okay if you don't want to- I mean, it's fine really, I understand that you have-"

"I'm so sorry Stiles, I have to go visit Malia but I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow okay?" she said at almost the same time.

 _But tomorrow will be too late_. He thinks.

"Yeah, It's okay, Scott will be here," he lied, "It's no big deal"

"Oh okay" she sounded unsure "see you at school then."

 _Maybe_.

"Okay."

He stays there, listening to the static like the pathetic little shit magnet he turned out to be, hoping she would understand the words without hearing them from him.

When the static is there no longer and all that is left is the usual silence, Stiles has to clutch the phone with both hands and look at the ceiling to keep himself from doing anything he might not be there to regret.

._._._.

Awkward o'clock ticks but he doesn't show up for dinner. He'd puked his guts out from that goddamned advil pill taken on an empty stomach and he's pretty sure he'll do it again if he ever has to eat. Guess the growling stomach can suck it.

He's also being struggling to physically restrain himself on his bed to keep him from hurting himself, he tried distracting himself with homework but he had a panic attack just opening the biology textbook because it had a _fly_ on it, he closed his window and shut the curtains just so that the spy owl wouldn't come in and eat him.

All that was left was a curled up little boy, scared and haunted.

"Stiles, _please_." His father's at the other side of his bedroom door, which is locked, probably worrying more than he should.

"I can't, dad, I'm sorry."

"You're barely keeping yourself alive with what you eat." And yes, his dad is a very smart man, Stiles will give him that, because this is exactly what he's been doing ever since he got back, he's been trying to stay alive. blank space, nothing more.

He eats food, but just enough so he doesn't pass out. He drinks water because he doesn't want to get dehydrated (funny joke). If he ever sleeps, it's Xanax, and if it's not Xanax then he passed out from exhaustion but who needs to know that? Not his dad, that's for sure.

"Do- do you want me to call Melissa or something?" His father hesitated. He's growing more concerned, his voice says it all.

"N-no, no, I'm just tired, I'll sleep it off." He assured but was careful not to open the door, if his father saw his face he'll decide otherwise.

His dad remained silent for a moment.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He heard the man's footsteps growing fainter and panicked a little more, there were so many things that should remain hidden " _don't_ call her!" He called after him.

._._._.

But his dad is a Stilinski, of course he didn't listen. Several minutes later there's a knock on his door, the familiar voice of his friend Scott asked (because if it's not the nurse it's her son, and Stiles is very thankful that it's her son)

"Can I come in?" Stiles nodded and started dumbly waiting for his friend to get in, but then he realized what he just did, and that he was still leaning against the door, so he moved away to let him in, by sliding slowly on the floor.

"Yeah" he said, after what felt like decades later.

Scott's head peeked in, then he just stood in the room with a frown that spoke for itself.

"He called you, didn't he?" And he definitely sounded like he could use a glass of water. He's pretty sure he looks pathetic too with the way he's sitting against the bed, he hasn't checked to see though. It would induce a few unwanted nightmares, he knows that from experience.

Scott must've said something because he was now watching him with that -you-look-really-bad-bro-are-you-ok-bro- look.

Stiles had things to say of course but his mind was still messy and slow and stupid. He needed to take a deep breath and focus.

"He was really worried Stiles, he said you wouldn't eat" Scott's voice slightly trembled and Stiles felt even more stupid for not noticing how worried he looked "and you didn't talk to anyone at school today, is everything okay?"

 _Nothing_ is okay, he wants to say, because seriously, that's worse than asking 'how are you' especially right now.

Stiles just shook his head and hoped that somehow the gesture alone would speak for him. He was in so much distress that he could feel it suffocating him. When Scott remained waiting did he push the words up:

" _He's_ back." He finally said then clicked his mouth shut.

Scott waited for the rest of that sentence for two slow breaths.

"Who's back?"

"The nogitsune's back" he shivered "I can feel him."

"Stiles... _no_ ," Scott sounded so desperate but Stiles didn't bother to check if his face displayed the same emotion, he wanted to believe him though, he really did, but it was just a little too late, after Stiles spent the whole evening thinking and over thinking, it made him a little more stubborn than usual. That's why he could speak again, but it was a ramble more than an explanation, it was messy and fast.

"I saw him Scott, I saw him downstairs. He's been following me, listen there's this owl that's by my window and I swear I'm not seeing things, I-" he looked down "he wants my pain, Scott" he took a breath "I had to give it to him!"

Scott blinked at him before sniffing the air, his face turned: "Stiles, what did you do?"

He took a step closer and Stiles, who was still leaning against the bed, moved to his right. Scott didn't seem to notice as he was searching for the source of the smell. He took another step and tiles was crawling away from him, when Scott finally noticed he was trying to stand up, but ended up swaying in place instead. Weak.

Scott steadied him with a hand on his shoulder: "easy." He said, but it sounded wrong, like he'd forced it out. He helped Stiles on the bed and sat beside him.

"tell me." he demanded.

Stiles buried his face in his hands, unable to bare the look on his friend's face: "you don't understand" he murmured, a sob forming with each pronounced sound "you... you won't."

"Then explain to me, why do I smell blood?" there was anger suppressed on the last part, Stiles heard it and hated how it squeezed his heart and savoured the outcome. He took a deep breath, then another, then a semblance of another before confessing:

"I had to- inflict pain on myself to stop- him from taking over..." he explained, taking breaks for breath.

"what? Stiles... you can't even be sure he's really back." Scott reasoned as if he was addressing a toddler.

"I know it, alright." But he stopped at that.

"No you don't!" he suddenly exclaimed, standing up, the thread of patience finally gave out, frustration taking its place.

Stiles simply stared at his friend's waiting face, this is the face of someone who lost a life because of him, he welcomed the anger directed at him, he deserved it, while Scott shouted something at him, he just stared, did he feel sad? stupid?

he concentrated on the moment as hard as the absence of the adderall would allow, squeezed his eyes shut really hard then opened them again, there were clouds in his vision then rain followed, the world that he saw was not rainbow colored.

The light was on but there was nothing it did that helped brighten the situation, only accentuated his friend's disappointed, angry features. He deserved it.

"I'm taking this with me" Scott waved with the flashing blade that he must've picked up while he cried "promise me this won't happen again, Stiles."

Stiles stared at his hands.

"I promise."

Stiles knew he shouldn't be waiting for it, or even anticipating it but they didn't hug, then again, did Stiles really deserve a hug after what he'd done?

No.

Before he even knew what was happening, he was taken in a bone crushing hug and there were words in his ear:

"Promise me _again_."

Stiles hesitated, did he hear the lie?

"I promise." he tried for sincere, which he hasn't been in a long time.

"I just- _can't_ fucking lose you again." he probably imagined being said.

Then Scott left and Stiles noticed he could barely feel any pain anymore. why.

._._._.

Stiles passed the whole night being creative. Meaning he was trying to shoo the big fat freaking owl away from his window, when throwing twigs, pens and threatening glares its way didn't work he finally gave up.

He didn't even wash his face from all the tears of earlier, popping Xanax was tempting at this point but considering that the half protein bar he had for dinner was still dancing in his stomach, he seriously doubted he would need anything to pass out.

Lydia didn't text back, he realized. No promises for anything. His dad was snoring in the other room, or somewhere. And Scott wasn't likely to come back.

There was no one.

Except for shadows, and voices and... demons.

If he didn't do this, everyone will be dead, including himself. He was dead either ways.

One hour later, three hours before sunrise and he was already seeing the future that waited for him at the summit. But how would he reach the roof?

* * *

 **A/N: So let's hope all of you stay safe and happy, wealthy with clear skin, amen :)**


	6. Chapter 6

It was fear. The reason why he was doing this, fear of failure, or a failure's aftermath that made him take the stairs two at a time and hope no one was still awake at this late hour to hear his footsteps echo through the building's walls, his feet feeling heavier with each step he had to take.

Or maybe it wasn't fear at all, maybe it was just curiosity or temptation or a mixture of both. Either way, Stiles was finally at the summit, exhausted from the effort he had to make, his panting became louder and louder with every dry inhale and he had to sit down on the floor...

But he was only one door away from reaching the roof.

His hands trembled, hesitating once more, until a voice broke him out of his thoughts:

"Stiles?"

Stiles recognized the voice, but was too tired to answer, or maybe too detached from reality itself to really pay attention and see if it existed or was just another thread of imaginations thrown again at his face.

His mind of course, had other plans; thinking, thinking quickly of an excuse to get him out of the situation as clean as he could come out.

What lie could possibly get past a werewolf that was still believable enough yet completely made out of bluff. What would a teenage boy be doing late at night at an (almost) abandoned building?

saving the world, that's what.

Stiles slowly turned around, taking another long dry inhale that closely resembled a wheeze before answering:

"yeah, that's me."

Derek's eyebrows shot up, probably from noticing how shitty he looked, and if one wasn't seeing things Stiles would assume that he'd flinched a little bit. A small part of him chuckled darkly at the thought, but given the circumstances, guilt quickly overpowered the rest of his senses and reminded him that the werewolf might've reacted more from habit than surprise. Damn him, he really was seeing things, wasn't he?

"what are you doing here?!" the other werewolf quickly collected his composure and Stiles realized that this might be the very last conversation he's ever going to have with anyone and that the words he'd utter next would be retold as his last words.

He had to make his point.

"saving you all," he said, voice burdened with regret "that's what."

Stiles fought the urge to tear up at the now visible concern on the werewolf's face, he'd seen that expression before, he just didn't want it to linger on him for too long. Derek took a careful step forward then asked with more urgency:

"Stiles, what are you doing?"

"you going deaf?" Stiles half turned around to say that before freezing as he realized, with the sound of his own heart beat in his ears that he was already turning the handle for the door had Derek not spoken again.

"I- I'm sorry" he sighed, then stepped into the cool air of the night, not even bothering to try to close the door behind him, Derek automatically followed, then added a bit more urgently:

"Stiles, don't do this" Stiles would've also laughed at how Derek was fully capable of stopping him with force but didn't, possible proof that he wanted him to do it, let's face it, everyone did.

"No." Stiles miserably ran the few steps left and suddenly Derek's voice was a bit too muffled by the wind and he was swaying on the edge just as he'd promised himself he would.

"-iles!" Stiles didn't realize he was falling in and out of consciousness until the sound of Derek's shouting woke him up, but only too briefly until he was falling, on either side now, it didn't matter.

His eyes eventually did flutter open, and he found himself looking at the sunrise of a new day, the orange sky and Derek.

Then he remembered what brought him in here.

"gah fucking shit" he wanted to sob so badly but nothing came out, Derek only blinked back, seemingly not understanding what was happening, Stiles replied to that with a tired glare that probably didn't have the desired effect before snapping:

"fuck you."

"Stiles, what the hell is going on with you?" despite the choice of words, Derek's voice was surprisingly soft, he'd heard him talk like that to Isaac once.

"who the fuck wakes up at this hour?"

"you drove all the way here."

"fuck you." Stiles repeated for lack of a better response, his body was too sleep, food, sense and medication deprived to properly function, let alone come up with witty comments.

"What were you thinking? coming all the way here?" the werewolf's eyes radiated anger and Stiles felt he had to at least get up to keep up the glare balance, dying or not he was not getting intimidated by an idiot.

His attempt at sitting up was met with a swimming environment and a Derek but with another ghost-Derek that might or might not be the real one, not very helpful to dodge punches if necessary because of what he was going to say next.

"he's back you absolute fucking moron! what the fuck else was I supposed to do? stop glaring at me like that! even Scott knows now! fucking dumbass!" the thoughts were neither clear nor organized in his mind so with an aid from anger it all came up a jumbled mess, Derek was sure to understand nothing but the insults.

"the nogitsune" he spoke his name again, slowly, closing his eyes to focus all his being on saying a single sentence properly "him, he's back." he bit the insides of his cheeks to keep him from messing it up.

He was met with absolute silence, he opened his eyes just briefly to see the two Dereks blinking at him in surprise, not glaring but just surprisingly blinking, then:

"That's impossible."

"I have proof" he said, feeling -if possible- more tired than before, or perhaps it was the coolness of the air that made his sweat more bearable? "I have proof" he repeated "and Scott knows."

"okay," Derek blinked again before erasing all the surprise off his face "come on inside, and tell me about it."

Even as his world blurred Stiles was able to recognize what trick Derek was trying to pull him into, get him inside and bam admit to him how completely out of his mind he thought he was, and to be frank Stiles himself wasn't entirely sure he wasn't but still.

"n-no, I'll stay here."

"no, you're coming inside." there was the anger again and Stiles for some reason thought it was a good idea to try and pathetically crawl his way away from Derek's reach but of course his attempts were shortly lived because damn himself again he passed out and this time he slept a bit longer.

._._._.

"He's insane." One of the voices said, Stiles was actually properly awake but wanted to pretend to be asleep just to hear what they had to say about him, he was also very tempted to waste what was left of his energy into a state of hysteric episode screaming his delusions at the world but even that required for his body to be a bit livelier, his thoughts a bit clearer, and the voices around him a bit more recognizable so that he could know which situation he was initially put into.

"He thinks the nogitsune is back." was a hushed whisper, the worst kind of hushed whisper that could be heard anywhere so it wasn't even a whisper anymore... Scott.

"He told me about that too." Derek.

Then they proceeded to debate on what should be done to him, Stiles felt a bit stupid for still believing his rushed thoughts and acting on a whim, but he still couldn't help but be even a little bit convinced of what his mind came up with, there were no counterarguments after all, except for 'that's impossible.'

Someone gently shook his shoulder and he knew it was finally time to open his eyes:

"Stiles, we know you're awake."

and there they stood, with their fangs bared and they bandages tight around their heads, covering even their eyes and their hands, very present and so very real, Stiles let out a scream of surprise before jumping out of the hospital bed.


End file.
